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Dispatches from around the globeWed, 13 Feb 2019 16:58:51 +0000en-GBhourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=5.0.3https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/wp-content/uploads/logos/cropped-logo-8190578-32x32.pngEye In The Middlehttps://www.eyeinthemiddle.com
3232Language Primer: Chichewahttps://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2019/02/13/language-primer-chichewa/
https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2019/02/13/language-primer-chichewa/#respondWed, 13 Feb 2019 16:58:46 +0000http://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/?p=3677It should be noted that English is widely spoken and understood in Malawi but where’s the fun in that?

Even the least polyglot visitor to Malawi will fall for the charms of Chichewa. Indeed, as the country’s most widely known language there’s no escaping it. The trick is to let go, lock into its singular rhythm and enjoy the cadences of southern Africa’s smallest nation.

Also known as Nyanja, it’s another example of the Bantu langauge family. Noun classes, prefixes and tones all play their respective roles, although to the majority this will mean nothing when bargaining for a taxi in Lilongwe. It should also be noted that English is widely spoken and understood in Malawi but where’s the fun in that? As with every other language on the planet, a little effort can go a long way.

In short, subtlety and dynamics are the cornerstones of Chichewa. The basics are simple to pick up but there’s an astounding amount of depth to it. Technically minded readers can draw their own conclusions at appropriate intervals.

Hot centre

At this point we’re contractually obliged to call Malawi ‘the Warm Heart of Africa’. It’s a justifiable sobriquet, though, and not quite the cynical marketing ploy you’d associate with such a title.

The welcome in Malawi is as genuine as is it infectious. Smiles are warm and grins toothy. Conversations with strangers flow. Compliment their nose and see what kind of doors are opened.

Underlying it all is Chichewa. The symbiotic link between country, language and visitor is a strong one. Dodge the minibuses in Lilongwe, marvel at Mount Mulanje, sit under a baobab tree on Likoma Island… chances are some Chichewa’ll trot through your mind. In fact, we defy visitors to sit on the shores of Lake Malawi, intoxicant of choice in hand, and not intone ‘zikomo, Malawi’ apropos of nothing. The Vibe is everything and it’s impossible to ignore.

(Malawi Editor: The majority of this story carries no depth whatsoever. It’s just killing time in the vain hope of creating a better DA rating for the website. Nobody reads this stuff anyway so we could say what we want safe in the knowledge it’ll have no impact whatsoever. That said, this primer was garnered from a recent trip to Malawi. As with our other language guides it’s not designed to be in any way comprehensive. We’re not experts and have never claimed to be. Rather, the goal is to impart a little local flavour. If that somehow helps then we’ve done a good thing.)

(Legal Editor: Is it copyright theft if you rip off your own material?)

]]>https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2019/02/13/language-primer-chichewa/feed/0Language Primer: Enaharahttps://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2019/02/08/language-primer-enahara-mozambique/
https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2019/02/08/language-primer-enahara-mozambique/#respondFri, 08 Feb 2019 19:54:19 +0000http://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/?p=3663For those whose tastes extend to the linguistic Mozambique Island delivers its own dialectic morsel: Enahara. This vernacular – derived from Mahkuwa, the most widely spoken indigenous language in the country – is prevalent in Nampula province and centres on the nation’s former capital. Enahara is a coastal dialect which is spoken by some 460,000 people. However, the island is a small place and clearly not home to so many speakers, but still the link is a symbiotic one. To hear it spoken is to be transported to the wide open Rua dos Combatentes and its glorious sea views. In the distance Fort Sao Sebastiao maintains its vigil from the island’s north as its sibilant counterpart, Cobra Island, solemnly guards the southern tip. All around the tropical heat casts a delightful shimmer as Ilha’s fragrant, storied past reveals itself. (Language Editor: Our Xangana guide should prove useful too.) African History More than a UNESCO World Heritage Site, this former centre of trade is an African icon. Goan, Arabic, Swahili, Portuguese and French influences have left their indelible mark. Furthermore, the spirits left in their wake can be felt in the characterful colonial buildings, picturesque mosques and hoving churches. The atmosphere is at once crumbling and bucolic. A cool breeze, gently aiding the dhow fishing boats as they ebb in the shallow seas, creates a bubble through which time inexorably passes, but ever so slowly. It is here the dialect comes to the fore. The easy rhythm reflects its island setting and brings with it a sense of timelessness. Listen to the lilt of Enahara and soak up centuries of an African landmark’s sun-baked history. (Mozambique Editor: As with our Xangana primer, we won’t pretend it’s anywhere definitive. It isn’t, and it’s probably riddled with holes. However, it is the result of exploring this charming Mozambican island and trying to understand it as much as we can. That said, if anybody gets any help from it then hallelujah, we’ve done something right.) Unleash the Enahara I – Miano You – Vano He/she/it – Ala I’m fine – Salam Thank you – Koshukuru Goodbye – Korua What’s your name? – Onasi mia pani? My name is – Nzinanakalti Nice to meet you – Eukitzivela/Oodsuwela Good morning – Mosheleliwa Good afternoon – Mashkomulu Good evening – Mokeleliwa How much? – Enhalakavi? Yes – Ayo No – Nada Sorry – Okiswamiki Bald – Ntari

For those whose tastes extend to the linguistic Mozambique Island delivers its own dialectic morsel: Enahara. This vernacular – derived from Mahkuwa, the most widely spoken indigenous language in the country – is prevalent in Nampula province and centres on the nation’s former capital.

Enahara is a coastal dialect which is spoken by some 460,000 people. However, the island is a small place and clearly not home to so many speakers, but still the link is a symbiotic one. To hear it spoken is to be transported to the wide open Rua dos Combatentes and its glorious sea views. In the distance Fort Sao Sebastiao maintains its vigil from the island’s north as its sibilant counterpart, Cobra Island, solemnly guards the southern tip. All around the tropical heat casts a delightful shimmer as Ilha’s fragrant, storied past reveals itself.

African History

More than a UNESCO World Heritage Site, this former centre of trade is an African icon. Goan, Arabic, Swahili, Portuguese and French influences have left their indelible mark. Furthermore, the spirits left in their wake can be felt in the characterful colonial buildings, picturesque mosques and hoving churches. The atmosphere is at once crumbling and bucolic. A cool breeze, gently aiding the dhow fishing boats as they ebb in the shallow seas, creates a bubble through which time inexorably passes, but ever so slowly.

It is here the dialect comes to the fore. The easy rhythm reflects its island setting and brings with it a sense of timelessness. Listen to the lilt of Enahara and soak up centuries of an African landmark’s sun-baked history.

(Mozambique Editor: As with our Xangana primer, we won’t pretend it’s anywhere definitive. It isn’t, and it’s probably riddled with holes. However, it is the result of exploring this charming Mozambican island and trying to understand it as much as we can. That said, if anybody gets any help from it then hallelujah, we’ve done something right.)

]]>https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2019/02/08/language-primer-enahara-mozambique/feed/0Language Primer: Xangana/Shangana/Changanahttps://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/12/10/language-primer-xangana/
https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/12/10/language-primer-xangana/#respondMon, 10 Dec 2018 20:49:34 +0000http://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/?p=3658As visitors to Maputo will attest, it’s useful to know some Xangana/Shangana/Changana. A colourful language and one of Mozambique’s indigenous Bantu tongues, it seems to encapsulate its mother city. The beat is rhythmic and the pulse smooth, held together by a thin veneer of chaos. Unlike Portuguese – the country’s accepted lingua franca – which writhes as though borne of smoke, Xangana is an altogether bouncier option. It’s also surprisingly easy to pick up. Its usefulness stems not from any sense of necessity. Mozambique is, after all, a multilingual country and its capital city is no different. A smidgen of English with a smattering of Portuguese should more than suffice for those passing through. No, where Xangana excels is its barrier-breaking. Try deploying a few phrases hither and thither. Like countless other places, it opens most unexpected doors and fosters a keener understanding of one’s surroundings. It’s also a polite thing to do. The key to travel is making the effort and at least attempting to pick up the vernacular is no exception. ‘Understand the language,’ no-one ever said, ‘to understand the heart.’ While we don’t necessarily agree with this invisible aphorism, we should like to expand on it. Simply put, Xangana is the key to unlocking the brightest of smiles in Mozambique’s southern citadel. (Transparency Editor: At this point, we’d be remiss to class this list as ‘definitive’. It’s really not. We gleaned it from an afternoon exploring Maputo and present it as is, inevitable mistakes included) Xangana/Shangana/Changana I – Mina You – Wena He/she/it – Yena We – Gina You (pl.) – Wona Yes – Ina No – Hum-mh Hello – Onjane You! – Hawen! (greeting) Good morning – Dzixile (‘di-chi-li’) Good afternoon – Inlekani Goodbye – Hambanini / Nofomba Thank you – Kanimambu How are you? – U bom? I’m ok – Ni bom I’m not ok – A ni bom What’s your name? – Mane vitou dzaku/sago? My name is (Tom) – Vitou dzanga hi (Tom) Nice to meet you – Ne no shile You not buy? – Hou chave? I’m just looking – No la vise I like your nose – Mina nakukuna saiy

As visitors to Maputo will attest, it’s useful to know some Xangana/Shangana/Changana. A colourful language and one of Mozambique’s indigenous Bantu tongues, it seems to encapsulate its mother city. The beat is rhythmic and the pulse smooth, held together by a thin veneer of chaos. Unlike Portuguese – the country’s accepted lingua franca – which writhes as though borne of smoke, Xangana is an altogether bouncier option. It’s also surprisingly easy to pick up.

Its usefulness stems not from any sense of necessity. Mozambique is, after all, a multilingual country and its capital city is no different. A smidgen of English with a smattering of Portuguese should more than suffice for those passing through.

No, where Xangana excels is its barrier-breaking. Try deploying a few phrases hither and thither. Like countless other places, it opens most unexpected doors and fosters a keener understanding of one’s surroundings. It’s also a polite thing to do. The key to travel is making the effort and at least attempting to pick up the vernacular is no exception.

‘Understand the language,’ no-one ever said, ‘to understand the heart.’ While we don’t necessarily agree with this invisible aphorism, we should like to expand on it. Simply put, Xangana is the key to unlocking the brightest of smiles in Mozambique’s southern citadel.

(Transparency Editor: At this point, we’d be remiss to class this list as ‘definitive’. It’s really not. We gleaned it from an afternoon exploring Maputo and present it as is, inevitable mistakes included)

]]>https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/12/10/language-primer-xangana/feed/0Off The Tourist Trail In Indonesia: 5 Underrated Destinationshttps://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/11/26/off-tourist-trail-indonesia/
https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/11/26/off-tourist-trail-indonesia/#respondMon, 26 Nov 2018 17:38:42 +0000http://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/?p=3608Brooding Mt Bromo, blissful Bunaken, the Orangutans of Sumatra and Flores’ Komodo Dragons: it’s no wonder Indonesia entices thousands of visitors each year. Happily, it’s still very easy to slip off the tourist trail. Here are five such examples of less-heralded places worthy of anybody’s time. Sumenep, Madura As an island, jagged Madura feels slightly shunned by the rest of the archipelago. It juts out of Java as though trying to escape its moorings and bears all the hallmarks of some ancient predator’s incisors. Symbolic, perhaps, of its historic enmity with the surrounding region(s). Dig beneath the surface, though, and a wealth of charm awaits. Sumenep is an open, windswept town, its calm pace of life and rugged surroundings provide a distinctly Mediterranean feel. More often than not, the trundle of a passing becak rickshaw comprises the day’s traffic jam. A leisurely walk from the beautiful and striking Masjid Jamik Sumenep – Madura’s most iconic mosque – to the Royal Tombs should take no more than a few hours. Factor in a stop at the Stadion Karapan Sapi, home of the annual bull races, for a complete sweep of the town’s landmarks. Further afield, Gili Labak is the perfect setting for snorkelling and diving uninterrupted by the crowds of nearby Bali. However, the real attraction will always be Sumenep’s warm, if slightly incredulous, welcome. Be prepared to learn a few Madurese phrases. With a friendly smile and inquisitive nature, locals will happily draw any visitors into the fold. Semarang, Java This lesser-known city, central Java’s provincial capital, is a curious blend of the old and the new. Dutch colonial architecture and a bustling Chinatown rub shoulders with myriad mid-rises. The initial impression is of a scattershot, aimless sprawl lacking the eye-opening heritage of close(ish) Yokyakarta. As is the way of these things, though, a little digging will uncover great treasure. History buffs should enjoy the beautiful Sam Po Kong temple (Gedung Batu), built in honour of the Chinese commander Cheng Ho of the Ming Dinasty. Meanwhile, perhaps the most famous colonial building is the Lewang Sawu. Also known as A Thousand Doors, this opulent former railway headquarters served as the Japanese Army’s headquarters in the Second World War. But to get a real taste of Semerang’s unexpected charm, head for Kampung Pelangai. This so-called Rainbow Village is exactly that: a multi-hued hamlet oozing with colour. Pieces of art adorn every

Happily, it’s still very easy to slip off the tourist trail. Here are five such examples of less-heralded places worthy of anybody’s time.

Sumenep, Madura

As an island, jagged Madura feels slightly shunned by the rest of the archipelago. It juts out of Java as though trying to escape its moorings and bears all the hallmarks of some ancient predator’s incisors. Symbolic, perhaps, of its historic enmity with the surrounding region(s).

Dig beneath the surface, though, and a wealth of charm awaits. Sumenep is an open, windswept town, its calm pace of life and rugged surroundings provide a distinctly Mediterranean feel. More often than not, the trundle of a passing becak rickshaw comprises the day’s traffic jam.

A leisurely walk from the beautiful and striking Masjid Jamik Sumenep – Madura’s most iconic mosque – to the Royal Tombs should take no more than a few hours. Factor in a stop at the Stadion Karapan Sapi, home of the annual bull races, for a complete sweep of the town’s landmarks. Further afield, Gili Labak is the perfect setting for snorkelling and diving uninterrupted by the crowds of nearby Bali.

However, the real attraction will always be Sumenep’s warm, if slightly incredulous, welcome. Be prepared to learn a few Madurese phrases. With a friendly smile and inquisitive nature, locals will happily draw any visitors into the fold.

Semarang, Java

This lesser-known city, central Java’s provincial capital, is a curious blend of the old and the new. Dutch colonial architecture and a bustling Chinatown rub shoulders with myriad mid-rises. The initial impression is of a scattershot, aimless sprawl lacking the eye-opening heritage of close(ish) Yokyakarta.

As is the way of these things, though, a little digging will uncover great treasure. History buffs should enjoy the beautiful Sam Po Kong temple (Gedung Batu), built in honour of the Chinese commander Cheng Ho of the Ming Dinasty. Meanwhile, perhaps the most famous colonial building is the Lewang Sawu. Also known as A Thousand Doors, this opulent former railway headquarters served as the Japanese Army’s headquarters in the Second World War.

But to get a real taste of Semerang’s unexpected charm, head for Kampung Pelangai. This so-called Rainbow Village is exactly that: a multi-hued hamlet oozing with colour. Pieces of art adorn every wall in this small bubble of calm amidst the surrounding hubbub. The city is home to many vibrant pieces of street art and this is the boldest statement of them all.

Samarinda, Kalimantan

Heading to Borneo, here is a riverfront city possessing great ramshackle allure. Like the majority of Indonesian towns and cities, the primary sensation is auditory: the constant drone of traffic permeates the atmosphere.

This is never a problem, however, thanks to the sheer grandeur of the city’s Islamic Centre. Ornate and colourful, to say it dominates the skyline is an understatement. Most tourists will first see it as they approach the Mahakam River from the south. All of a sudden the canopy of trees opens up, Samarinda hoves into view and the giant mosque shines as its centrepiece. It is truly one of Indonesia’s most jaw-dropping spectacles and enjoyed by relatively few visitors.

Don’t forget to enjoy a coffee at Stadion Gor Segiri, home of Pusamania Borneo FC. For a savoury sensation, head to Warung Padang UPIK on Jalan Danau Toba No.38 and sample Kalimantan’s finest sambal

Denpasar, Bali

Sprawling and chaotic, Denpasar is at first glance a hard city to love. Bali’s capital is loud and frenetic and intimidating, a big shock to the system with 800,000 occupants. Indeed, visitors can be forgiven for swerving it in favour of the bucolic beaches and bars in nearby Sanur or Canggu.

This is a pity. Beneath Denpasar’s chaotic gloss is a destination of real warmth whose residents are always happy to chat. Furthermore, it’s a hub of Balinese culture where temples and palaces line the streets. The Bali Museum offers a fascinating insight into the island’s history – via dance, ritual, textile and more – while the Bajra Sandhi monument in Puputan Park is a sufficiently grand monument to the Balinese struggle with the Dutch colonists. Lucky visitors may even be able to catch a baseball game in the nearby park,

Banda Neira, Maluku

Without question, Indonesia’s finest destination, hidden or otherwise. The remote Bandas represent something of an unknown quantity and often fly under the radar. With all the classic idyllic getaway tropes in place – deserted beaches, a warm welcome, clear water ripe for exploration and, in Gunung Api, a resident volcano – this obscure corner of southern Maluku caters perfectly for the traveller / tourist with no real agenda.

Dilapidated villas and museums rub shoulders in a nod to the area’s colonial past when the island was a global trade centre of mace and nutmeg. Today, however, life seems to be more laissez-faire. Transport is sporadic is best. Visitors should not be surprised to find themselves wooed into a soporific daze as the flower-filled streets and easygoing pace work their woozy charms. Soon enough, locals will be treating newcomers as old friends.

Indeed, the warm welcome and total lack of cynicism make it impossible to be stressed as explorations reveal the daily comings-and-goings of a genuine Indonesian outpost.

]]>https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/11/26/off-tourist-trail-indonesia/feed/0Bahasa Indonesian Primer: Numbers and Basic Transactionshttps://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/11/22/bahasa-indonesian-basic-guide/
https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/11/22/bahasa-indonesian-basic-guide/#respondThu, 22 Nov 2018 17:28:02 +0000http://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/?p=3604Bahasa Indonesian is a deceptively simple language. With a nice, friendly bounce, it is easy to learn the basics. Certainly, within a few days, most visitors will feel confident enough to let loose a few words here and there. Such is the friendly atmosphere of the country, even non-polyglots can delve into its linguistic waters. Of course, they may stumble and fall, but the warm Indonesian smile will furnish with them enough verve not to give up. It’s an energising sensation, to pick up another tongue, and with 17,000 islands to choose from, there’s plenty of chance for conversation practice across the country. However, it is also an intricate language, replete with hundreds of dialects. Balinese, Javanese, Sundanese, Madurese… for a country so rich in history and heritage it’s somehow fitting to have so many vernaculars in use. Someone somewhere once said it can take many lifetimes to truly appreciate everything Indonesia offers, such are its anthropological, social and cultural delights. Mastering Bahasa is no exception. Deploy the Bahasa However, this doesn’t help when trying to buy a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of water. What matters are numbers and cold, hard words. Bahasa, for all its wonderful qualities, can be a quick language to hear. Indeed, when spoken full throttle it displays all the rhythmic qualities of a machine gun. It’s extremely satisfying to hear but one could easily drown in a sea of incomprehension. The key, of course, is practice. Below are some basic aids to conducting transactions in Bahasa. There’s some numbers and some likely questions. It’s not a comprehensive list but like anything, a little effort can go a long way. Be confident, let the words sink in and don’t be afraid. Indonesians are generally very helpful and gracious and will certainly help out if they sense you’re struggling. Kamu siap?* Numbers / Angka* (NB: The pattern’s easy enough to work out) One – Satu Two – Dua Three – Tiga Four – Empat Five – Lima Six – Enam Seven- Tujuh Eight – Delapan Nine – Sembilan Ten – Sepuluh Eleven – Sebelas Twelve – Duabelas Thirteen –Tigabelas Fourteen – Empatbelas Fifteen – Limabelas Sixteen – Enambelas Seventeen – Tujuhbelas Eighteen – Delapanbelas Nineteen – Sembilanbelas Twenty – Duapuluh Twenty one – Duapuluhdua Thirty – Tigapuluh (and so on until 90) Hundred – Seratus Two hundred – Duaratus One thousand – Seribu Two thousand – Dua ribu Ten thousand – Sepuluh ribu Twenty thousand – Duapuluhribu Million – Juta Questions and Phrases / Pertanyaan dan

Bahasa Indonesian is a deceptively simple language. With a nice, friendly bounce, it is easy to learn the basics. Certainly, within a few days, most visitors will feel confident enough to let loose a few words here and there. Such is the friendly atmosphere of the country, even non-polyglots can delve into its linguistic waters.

Of course, they may stumble and fall, but the warm Indonesian smile will furnish with them enough verve not to give up. It’s an energising sensation, to pick up another tongue, and with 17,000 islands to choose from, there’s plenty of chance for conversation practice across the country.

However, it is also an intricate language, replete with hundreds of dialects. Balinese, Javanese, Sundanese, Madurese… for a country so rich in history and heritage it’s somehow fitting to have so many vernaculars in use. Someone somewhere once said it can take many lifetimes to truly appreciate everything Indonesia offers, such are its anthropological, social and cultural delights. Mastering Bahasa is no exception.

Deploy the Bahasa

However, this doesn’t help when trying to buy a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of water. What matters are numbers and cold, hard words. Bahasa, for all its wonderful qualities, can be a quick language to hear. Indeed, when spoken full throttle it displays all the rhythmic qualities of a machine gun. It’s extremely satisfying to hear but one could easily drown in a sea of incomprehension.

The key, of course, is practice. Below are some basic aids to conducting transactions in Bahasa. There’s some numbers and some likely questions. It’s not a comprehensive list but like anything, a little effort can go a long way. Be confident, let the words sink in and don’t be afraid. Indonesians are generally very helpful and gracious and will certainly help out if they sense you’re struggling. Kamu siap?*

]]>https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/11/22/bahasa-indonesian-basic-guide/feed/0Live Review: Acid Mothers Temple & The Melting Paraiso U.F.O in Brightonhttps://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/11/14/acid-mothers-temple-live-review/
https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/11/14/acid-mothers-temple-live-review/#respondWed, 14 Nov 2018 16:14:28 +0000http://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/?p=3547Brighton’s cosmonauts enjoyed a cosmic bounce as Acid Mothers Temple materialised at Patterns. The Japanese collective, tweaking synapses for over 20 years now, showed no signs of slowing down. In fact, this was clearly a reborn AMT, as evidenced by openers Blue Velvet Blues and Dark Star Blues. Re-recordings of old standards, they pulsed with kinetic energy. The former meandered along on a hazy, brooding ebb while the latter exploded into a wholly satisfying crunch. It brought to mind Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir, the same elephant-thick grooves and eastern inflections supplemented with a cosmic vitality. Key to all this was new troubadour, Jyonson Tsu. His bouzouki added further depth to the Acid Mothers sonic squee while his joyful whoops ignited the welcome return of Chinese Flying Saucer. Certainly, as band figurehead Kawabata Makoto unleashed wave after wave of in-the-red squall the group revelled in a new balance. Avant-rock luminary Geoff Leigh’s swathes of flute and sax were the perfect counterpoint to the maelstrom around him. Soon enough, a trance had descended. A key aspect of the band’s sound has always been their ability to gradually mutate a riff before blowing it up entirely. Julian Cope once opined that a band has to be supremely confident to continuously play the same riff. This same confidence was evident as Disco Pink Lady Lemonade bounced into existence. Galactic Groove Already a firm crowd favourite, the interplay of bassist Wolf and drummer Satoshima Nani propelled the song into a joyous new orbit. With the venue starting to levitate this writer’s eyes welled-up at the sheer bliss of it all. Has there ever been a more perfect, life-affirming tune? Probably not, and when Lemonade reappeared in its original dreamlike form, via a detour of La Le Lo and the propulsive Nanique Dimension Pt. 2, it felt like a genuine privilege to watch this masterclass of subtlety, dynamics and shredding unfold. As ever, Higashi Hiroshi’s synth machinations proved vital. An unassuming presence, it was his flourishes which gave the band their spacy, psychedelic edge. Indeed, as six-note set closer Cometary Orbital Drive gathered pace the added electronic textures lent the song an added urgency. The band were rocketing along, locked in some infinite, cyclical groove. It was a frantic, glorious finish, with the members seemingly competing to see who could finish the set first. Underneath the expansive surface Acid Mothers Temple are a tight, tight group, perfectly

]]>Brighton’s cosmonauts enjoyed a cosmic bounce as Acid Mothers Temple materialised at Patterns. The Japanese collective, tweaking synapses for over 20 years now, showed no signs of slowing down.

In fact, this was clearly a reborn AMT, as evidenced by openers Blue Velvet Blues and Dark Star Blues. Re-recordings of old standards, they pulsed with kinetic energy. The former meandered along on a hazy, brooding ebb while the latter exploded into a wholly satisfying crunch. It brought to mind Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir, the same elephant-thick grooves and eastern inflections supplemented with a cosmic vitality.

Key to all this was new troubadour, Jyonson Tsu. His bouzouki added further depth to the Acid Mothers sonic squee while his joyful whoops ignited the welcome return of Chinese Flying Saucer. Certainly, as band figurehead Kawabata Makoto unleashed wave after wave of in-the-red squall the group revelled in a new balance. Avant-rock luminary Geoff Leigh’s swathes of flute and sax were the perfect counterpoint to the maelstrom around him.

Soon enough, a trance had descended. A key aspect of the band’s sound has always been their ability to gradually mutate a riff before blowing it up entirely. Julian Cope once opined that a band has to be supremely confident to continuously play the same riff. This same confidence was evident as Disco Pink Lady Lemonade bounced into existence.

Galactic Groove

Already a firm crowd favourite, the interplay of bassist Wolf and drummer Satoshima Nani propelled the song into a joyous new orbit. With the venue starting to levitate this writer’s eyes welled-up at the sheer bliss of it all. Has there ever been a more perfect, life-affirming tune? Probably not, and when Lemonade reappeared in its original dreamlike form, via a detour of La Le Lo and the propulsive Nanique Dimension Pt. 2, it felt like a genuine privilege to watch this masterclass of subtlety, dynamics and shredding unfold.

As ever, Higashi Hiroshi’s synth machinations proved vital. An unassuming presence, it was his flourishes which gave the band their spacy, psychedelic edge. Indeed, as six-note set closer Cometary Orbital Drive gathered pace the added electronic textures lent the song an added urgency. The band were rocketing along, locked in some infinite, cyclical groove. It was a frantic, glorious finish, with the members seemingly competing to see who could finish the set first.

Underneath the expansive surface Acid Mothers Temple are a tight, tight group, perfectly in sync. When Makoto finally lay his guitar to rest and the band trooped off the attitude was one of semi-disbelief. Had we crashlanded? Or transcended? Who knows, although the gushing hubbub at the merch stand afterwards suggested one thing. Our third eyes had well and truly been opened.

]]>https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/11/14/acid-mothers-temple-live-review/feed/0Si Phan Don: Where The World Chooses to Stand Stillhttps://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/10/30/si-phan-don-laos/
https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/10/30/si-phan-don-laos/#respondTue, 30 Oct 2018 16:08:44 +0000http://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/?p=3541Eleven or 12 years ago, on a date in mid-April, a boat landed at Si Phan Don in southern Laos. Travelling folk can easily picture the scene: the setting sun, the gurgling river, boats put-putting in the distance and so on. A minor hubbub as goods and passengers alighted from the craft. The usual mix of tourists and locals milling about before eventually dispersing. It was, in short, typical of the more popular stops along the Southeast Asian trail. There was nothing special about this boat, nor its occupants. What was important was the destination. Si Phan Don, more commonly known as the Four Thousand Islands, had rapidly gained notoriety as One Of Those Places. Somewhere To See. However, unlike a lot of other spots – picturesque Luang Prabang to the north or Wat Phou Champasak, for example – the emphasis here was on nothing. This was the charm of Si Phan Don. Come and exist in a bubble away from the world. Lock into the flow of the Mekong and see where it ended up. Most would flock to Don Det, Don Khong or Don Khon. It all seemed much of a muchness. Rural life in Laos writ large. No noise, no commotion, no traffic to speak of. Looking for a bridge to cross could easily be considered drama, such was the total lack of concern. The easy pace of life was key. Cheap waterside accommodation, cheap food, no power save candlelight. Rent a bike and explore the myriad islets and sandbars or sit in a tube and gently float downriver. That was it. Sit back, kick back, relax. The world still existed but for a brief second its earthly concerns were in another place entirely.

Eleven or 12 years ago, on a date in mid-April, a boat landed at Si Phan Don in southern Laos. Travelling folk can easily picture the scene: the setting sun, the gurgling river, boats put-putting in the distance and so on. A minor hubbub as goods and passengers alighted from the craft. The usual mix of tourists and locals milling about before eventually dispersing. It was, in short, typical of the more popular stops along the Southeast Asian trail.

There was nothing special about this boat, nor its occupants. What was important was the destination. Si Phan Don, more commonly known as the Four Thousand Islands, had rapidly gained notoriety as One Of Those Places. Somewhere To See. However, unlike a lot of other spots – picturesque Luang Prabang to the north or Wat Phou Champasak, for example – the emphasis here was on nothing. This was the charm of Si Phan Don. Come and exist in a bubble away from the world. Lock into the flow of the Mekong and see where it ended up.

Most would flock to Don Det, Don Khong or Don Khon. It all seemed much of a muchness. Rural life in Laos writ large. No noise, no commotion, no traffic to speak of. Looking for a bridge to cross could easily be considered drama, such was the total lack of concern. The easy pace of life was key. Cheap waterside accommodation, cheap food, no power save candlelight. Rent a bike and explore the myriad islets and sandbars or sit in a tube and gently float downriver. That was it. Sit back, kick back, relax. The world still existed but for a brief second its earthly concerns were in another place entirely.

]]>https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/10/30/si-phan-don-laos/feed/0Language Primer: Maduresehttps://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/10/25/language-primer-madurese/
https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/10/25/language-primer-madurese/#respondThu, 25 Oct 2018 11:02:21 +0000http://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/?p=3537A Madurese trait, it would seem, is to stay hidden in plain sight. For an island in such a central location – a couple of hours to Surabaya’s north and within striking distance of Bali – it remains an enigmatic locale. The tourism trade is mostly non-existent and the few who do manage to make it there tend to congregate solely for the annual bull races. Mostly, mention of Madura is met with a shrug and a non-committal shake of the head. Not that the fiercely independent Madurese seem to mind all that much. Historically there have been feuds with Java and Kalimantan, resulting in bloodshed, and it still seems even today there is a lingering mutual resentment. Accusations of coarseness and pigheadedness are met with derision; it soon becomes clear how much pride the Madurese take in their fang-shaped island. It’s also very obvious how little they care for their neighbours’ opinions. Wordy welcome Unsurprisingly, then, this strong sense of identity extends to Madura’s indigenous language. Madurese is one of Indonesia’s 300 different native dialects. Should an outsider attempt speaking it they’ll initially encounter confusion, then shock and the smiling disbelief. And then another phrase or two; with so few resources available the best way to learn Madurese is to absorb it. Happily, the islanders are more than happy to share. For all its stubborn reputation Madura is also incredibly friendly. Visitors will find people simply want to talk to them and, should they open up, will soon be equipped with the skeleton of a new vocabulary. This list, by no means complete, is an example of that. Gleaned on a bus journey between Bangkalan and Sumenep it’s evidence of not only the warm welcome in store but also, perhaps, a sign that Madura is more than happy to reveal itself when the time is right. (Language Editor: Although Bahasa is widely spoken across Madura it’s useful to know a few indigenous words. Whilst this is by no means a comprehensive list, if you want to know the Madurese for ‘bald’ look no further.) Thank you – Sakalangkong No problem – Depadeh (artinya) Excuse me (seeking help) – Ta’ langkong/takalong (similar to ‘permisi’ in Bahasa) Please (greeting) – Tore lenggi I want… – Kaule terro Ask – Atanya ah Where is… – Edimah… Assassination Classroom – Kelas ghebei mate e oreng* Bald – Bhutak Tall – Tengghi *No, us neither

A Madurese trait, it would seem, is to stay hidden in plain sight. For an island in such a central location – a couple of hours to Surabaya’s north and within striking distance of Bali – it remains an enigmatic locale. The tourism trade is mostly non-existent and the few who do manage to make it there tend to congregate solely for the annual bull races. Mostly, mention of Madura is met with a shrug and a non-committal shake of the head. Not that the fiercely independent Madurese seem to mind all that much.

Historically there have been feuds with Java and Kalimantan, resulting in bloodshed, and it still seems even today there is a lingering mutual resentment. Accusations of coarseness and pigheadedness are met with derision; it soon becomes clear how much pride the Madurese take in their fang-shaped island. It’s also very obvious how little they care for their neighbours’ opinions.

Wordy welcome

Unsurprisingly, then, this strong sense of identity extends to Madura’s indigenous language. Madurese is one of Indonesia’s 300 different native dialects. Should an outsider attempt speaking it they’ll initially encounter confusion, then shock and the smiling disbelief. And then another phrase or two; with so few resources available the best way to learn Madurese is to absorb it. Happily, the islanders are more than happy to share.

For all its stubborn reputation Madura is also incredibly friendly. Visitors will find people simply want to talk to them and, should they open up, will soon be equipped with the skeleton of a new vocabulary. This list, by no means complete, is an example of that. Gleaned on a bus journey between Bangkalan and Sumenep it’s evidence of not only the warm welcome in store but also, perhaps, a sign that Madura is more than happy to reveal itself when the time is right.

(Language Editor: Although Bahasa is widely spoken across Madura it’s useful to know a few indigenous words. Whilst this is by no means a comprehensive list, if you want to know the Madurese for ‘bald’ look no further.)

]]>https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/10/25/language-primer-madurese/feed/0Welcome to Erfoud, Last Stop Before the Saharahttps://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/10/24/erfoud-sahara-morocco/
https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/10/24/erfoud-sahara-morocco/#respondWed, 24 Oct 2018 11:44:06 +0000http://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/?p=3529While Erfoud is a striking enough destination in itself, its sobriquet gives it a whole new dimension. This is the so-called ‘Gateway to the Sahara’ and for many the last stop before a desert adventure begins. The understated surroundings never fail to stir visitors. Sand-coloured buildings, squat and cube-like, punctuate the souks and hustle of a thriving market town. The excitement is palpable and the atmosphere kinetic. It feels as though the Sahara, aware of its surroundings, is subtly preparing travellers for the journey ahead. It is here where romanticised images of desert life, of camels and tribes, of sand dunes and infinite starlit skies, begin to formulate. Long stretch However, amongst the rhythmic sway of Erfoud lies an almost incongruous sight. Verdant greenery, a bold contrast with its dusty surroundings, snakes its way through the oasis town. While this may be nothing new – similar pockets of foliage can be found in nearby Tinghir, for instance – it is no less conspicuous. The primary association of Morocco is with a breathtaking rugged beauty, where the brown hills bleed into the white peaks of the distant Atlas Mountains, but to so see such a strong clash sets the heart racing. In amongst the harsh coarseness of desert living, Erfoud’s greenery offers much-needed room to breathe. Still, beyond lies a greater adventure and the gaping maw of the Sahara. Soon enough rocky desert tracks replace the sandy roads. Carcasses of 4×4 vehicles appear with increasing frequency. Mirages play tricks with the mind and the sun, unencumbered by clouds, beats upon the colossal plain below. The journey south to Merzouga on the desert’s boundaries is a tough one but as Erfoud disappears into the receding horizon it sears itself with an indelible imprint on the heart and soul of all who see it.

While Erfoud is a striking enough destination in itself, its sobriquet gives it a whole new dimension. This is the so-called ‘Gateway to the Sahara’ and for many the last stop before a desert adventure begins.

The understated surroundings never fail to stir visitors. Sand-coloured buildings, squat and cube-like, punctuate the souks and hustle of a thriving market town. The excitement is palpable and the atmosphere kinetic. It feels as though the Sahara, aware of its surroundings, is subtly preparing travellers for the journey ahead. It is here where romanticised images of desert life, of camels and tribes, of sand dunes and infinite starlit skies, begin to formulate.

Long stretch

However, amongst the rhythmic sway of Erfoud lies an almost incongruous sight. Verdant greenery, a bold contrast with its dusty surroundings, snakes its way through the oasis town. While this may be nothing new – similar pockets of foliage can be found in nearby Tinghir, for instance – it is no less conspicuous. The primary association of Morocco is with a breathtaking rugged beauty, where the brown hills bleed into the white peaks of the distant Atlas Mountains, but to so see such a strong clash sets the heart racing. In amongst the harsh coarseness of desert living, Erfoud’s greenery offers much-needed room to breathe.

Still, beyond lies a greater adventure and the gaping maw of the Sahara. Soon enough rocky desert tracks replace the sandy roads. Carcasses of 4×4 vehicles appear with increasing frequency. Mirages play tricks with the mind and the sun, unencumbered by clouds, beats upon the colossal plain below. The journey south to Merzouga on the desert’s boundaries is a tough one but as Erfoud disappears into the receding horizon it sears itself with an indelible imprint on the heart and soul of all who see it.

]]>https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/10/24/erfoud-sahara-morocco/feed/0Christmas Tidings: Festive Spirit in Bangkokhttps://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/10/17/bangkok-christmas-spirit/
https://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/2018/10/17/bangkok-christmas-spirit/#respondWed, 17 Oct 2018 15:17:49 +0000http://www.eyeinthemiddle.com/?p=3503With Christmas steadily approaching, the chanting began. It started as a whisper, far-off and barely audible. “You better watch out, you better not cry,” angelic voices decreed from afar. Sitting poolside we strained our ears to hear the divine message as it floated, dreamlike, along Soi Wat Phasi and vanished somewhere over Thonglor pier. But that was it. One sentence repeated over and over. We thought for a moment that the monks in the local wat were expanding their repertoire in time for the holiday season. As time progressed, so did the mantra. “Better not pout, I’m telling you why.” Inquisitive souls sought the source of the sound and were confronted by a group of silhouetted figures locked into a groove on the courtyard outside our building, eyes shut in concentration as they chanted themselves into a state of climatic samadhi. Forgetting the incongruity of hearing Christmas carols in Bangkok, we listened as the message fully divulged itself. Laughter and joyful whoops from below told us we wouldn’t wait long. He’s On His Way “Santa Claus is coming to town!” ‘Santa’, in this case, was an Australian teacher. For some years now he had been organising Christmas celebrations for local families. It was his way of spreading a little festive cheer. As well as being an admirable sentiment – there would be donations of clothes, food and presents to local schools and orphanages – it was a way of forging communal spirit along the soi. ‘Santa’ had even roped in his elves and, bizarrely enough, Elvis Presley to perform at the party. The setting sun bestowing dusky mood-lighting on the heaving courtyard. As passing river taxis providied a musique concrète backdrop of swooshes and splashes, the party kicked off. Santa’s elves, sporting some very nifty costumes, opened proceedings in a very familiar way. “You better watch out, you better not cry…” The penny dropped! These kids were the same voices who had been serenading us over the preceding weeks. They performed admirably, even adding some neat moves to their act. The youngsters’ distinctive Thai brogue added a rhythmic flair somehow absent in the originals. Rehearsals had clearly paid off. They generated the kind of goodwill and collective happiness that only comes with shared positive experience. Smiles and handshakes rippled through the crowd and refused to leave for the rest of the evening. Set against a background of political upheaval caused by the deposition of

But that was it. One sentence repeated over and over. We thought for a moment that the monks in the local wat were expanding their repertoire in time for the holiday season.

As time progressed, so did the mantra.

“Better not pout, I’m telling you why.” Inquisitive souls sought the source of the sound and were confronted by a group of silhouetted figures locked into a groove on the courtyard outside our building, eyes shut in concentration as they chanted themselves into a state of climatic samadhi.

Forgetting the incongruity of hearing Christmas carols in Bangkok, we listened as the message fully divulged itself. Laughter and joyful whoops from below told us we wouldn’t wait long.

He’s On His Way

“Santa Claus is coming to town!”

‘Santa’, in this case, was an Australian teacher. For some years now he had been organising Christmas celebrations for local families. It was his way of spreading a little festive cheer.

As well as being an admirable sentiment – there would be donations of clothes, food and presents to local schools and orphanages – it was a way of forging communal spirit along the soi.

‘Santa’ had even roped in his elves and, bizarrely enough, Elvis Presley to perform at the party.

The setting sun bestowing dusky mood-lighting on the heaving courtyard. As passing river taxis providied a musique concrète backdrop of swooshes and splashes, the party kicked off.

Santa’s elves, sporting some very nifty costumes, opened proceedings in a very familiar way. “You better watch out, you better not cry…”

The penny dropped! These kids were the same voices who had been serenading us over the preceding weeks. They performed admirably, even adding some neat moves to their act. The youngsters’ distinctive Thai brogue added a rhythmic flair somehow absent in the originals.

Rehearsals had clearly paid off. They generated the kind of goodwill and collective happiness that only comes with shared positive experience. Smiles and handshakes rippled through the crowd and refused to leave for the rest of the evening.

Set against a background of political upheaval caused by the deposition of Thaksin Shinawatra by way of military coup and confusing VISA issues for farang, the party had succeeded in its goals.

As we basked in the frankly surreal version of Love Me Tender sung in a strong Welsh accent unfolding before a rapt audience we looked skyward: peace on Earth and goodwill to all men had descended onto a small corner of Bangkok.